


This isn't how things were supposed to happen

by 10k_au



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forced Abortion, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10k_au/pseuds/10k_au
Summary: Reader thinks that she may be pregnant with 10k's baby, Roberta helps her get her hands on a pregnancy test to make sure.





	

“Are you sure that you don’t want to come with us?” Doc’s hand rests on your shoulder for a moment, giving you a careful look. You smile softly and nod, motioning for him to follow the others. He grins back and then wanders off to climb into the back of the truck. You watch him talking to Addy, she laughs at something he says and you feel the urge to run and join them. But you can’t, you have something else that you need to do.

“I don’t like leaving you here alone” 10k’s arms wind around you. His head rests on your shoulder and he squeezes you until you can hardly breathe.

“I’m not alone” you remind him, playing with his hair gently. “Warren is staying with me, we’re going to search for loot in town” After a minute of contemplation, he pulls away and groans, holding your hand in his for as long as he can as he shuffles off towards Addy, who’s calling his name. He jumps up onto the bed of the truck to crouch by the cab, and gives you one final glance as the vehicle pulls away, Vasquez’s arm hanging out of the driver’s side window.

“You haven’t told him?”

You turn to see Warren coming up beside you, hands on her hips, a look on her face that tells you she disagrees with your choice. You sigh and shake your head, wrapping your arms around your middle.

“I wanted to make sure first” you whisper, not able to look her in the eye. She rubs your back a little, sympathising with how difficult it had become to cope with change in the apocalypse. You find yourself having to shake her off, close to tears.

“Come on” she says softly, “Let’s go, we’ll check the pharmacy down the road.”

“Give me one second” you reply, watching the cloud of dust kicked up by the four by four slowly disappear into nothing. When there’s nothing to see anymore, you turn and follow after Warren, one hand on the handle of your knife, sheathed carefully at your hip. When you catch up with her, she smiles a little, looking pleased that you’re managing to hold yourself together. You walk side by side through the suburban town, to a little pharmaceutical shop that looks completely trashed. The glass front has been smashed in, and the shelves have been emptied of their contents. You stand, a frown finding its way onto your face, hopes as broken as the window.

“It’s okay, y/n” Warren says serenely, walking across the glass shard, cracking them under foot. “They’ll have some here, not like anyone else needs them. She steps over the frame and into the store, whistling to coax out any zombies that were hiding in the shadows or behind the aisles. When nothing jumps her, you tail after her, trying to avoid the blood smeared across everything. It was everywhere by now. No matter where you went, how rural, everything had blood on it from either a Zombie or someone a little more human.

She’s searching the shelves, looking high and low. After swiping a few boxes into her bag, she comes to a stop. She’s still and quiet for a moment and then she stands straight and looks towards you, waving you across.

“Here,” she states. “I found them.”

Once next to her, you ponder over the boxes intently. You feel sick. Maybe it’s nerves, uncertainty about the future before you. No, you’re really going to be sick. You turn away and crumble to the ground, retching and heaving over the paper littering the floor. Warren’s arms comes to your shoulder. She rubs your back as she did earlier, taking your hair with her other hand to keep it out of your face.

“Doesn’t really leave me with much doubt about what’s going on” She tells you, surprise in her voice. You have to agree with her, but you have to know. You have to take a test and see it there in your hands in front of you, the blue line or cross.

“Roberta?” you mumble, hand on chest, trying to figure out whether you’ve finished vomiting. “Roberta I’m so scared.”

“Oh honey” She pulls you round to hug you, holding your head letting you sob into her shoulder, You don’t want her to let you go, if she does you might fall apart, do something that you’ll regret. “It’s going to be okay, I promise you. We’re all here for you”

You hold the pregnancy test so tightly in your hands on the way back that your fingers start to seize up. Warren keeps shooting you worried looks, struggling with all of the bags she’s carrying, but unwilling to let you help her with any of them.

Once you’re back at the rendezvous house, you sprint up the stairs and into the room that you and 10k had been sharing. You stumble into the bathroom and shut the door, locking in behind you and leaning on the sink, half glaring at yourself in the mirror and half not seeing anything at all.

“Y/n?”

You ignore Warren, undoing the box in your hand and pulling all of the contents out into the bowl. You fish the test out of the pile and hold it out, hand shaking, having doubts about wanting to know either way. Perhaps the problem would go away by itself. Perhaps you could make it go away.

While you pee, your gaze fixes on the white tiled wall, not so white anymore. The blood here is black and dried, probably from back when everything started. Your mind scrambles to find something else to think about. But that brings you to thinking about the opposite.

“This can’t be happening” You whisper, “God, it can’t.” You stand up, flush and place the test on the cistern, crossing the room to slide down the bathroom door and sit on the cold hard floor. There’s silence except for Warren moving around downstairs. You imagine that she’s filling the cupboards with what you found in town, trying to make the place seem more homely for the remainder of your stay.

Thinking back to the last time you and 10k were intimate, you struggled to try and convince yourself that there’s no way that you could be pregnant. You had been careful, as careful as you could be nowadays. But here you were. You were nervous about his reaction, what would he do or say when you told him. He would probably withdraw into himself, not talk to you, and become deathly quiet. Could you bear that? Could you deal with him losing himself once again because of you?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You put your head in your hands, between your knees. You don’t want to exist anymore, you can’t handle this. For the first time in years you can feel the dark emotions returning, the numbness, the heartache, the depression.

You think of all of the ways that you can to escape the situation. You could run, just keep running and not face 10k on the subject. You could kill the thing growing inside of you… You try to refer to it as an it, an unconsciousness thing that could be removed. No. you couldn’t do that, maybe you could just kill yourself.

“Y/n?”

Warren is outside of the door. Your head snaps up, flinching against the wood. You don’t know how long you’ve been sat there. But the light spilling through the window is dimmer, and you have cramp in your thighs.

“Y/n, you’ve been in there for ages, please let me in.”

You scramble to your feet and unlock the door, pulling it inwards. She gives you guarded look and strides into the room, keeping space between you, not wanting to stress you out. You don’t look her in the face, instead you stare at her feet as she talks.

“Are you pregnant?” she asks, and then she moves across the room, obviously towards the test that you’d abandoned.

“I haven’t looked”

You hear her pick it up and your stomach drops. You’re not ready for an answer, you’re not ready for anything, and you want to pop out of existence. There’s a silence that cuts through the air with the weight of the importance of the situation.

“It’s positive” she tells you, holding it out for you to see for yourself. You don’t take it, but you nod.

“I know it’s not ideal but…” she starts.

“I’m going to crash” you cut in, voice breaking in the middle, It’s obvious that she can tell that you’re upset, but you don’t care, you just want to be by yourself. You walk out of the bathroom and across to the bed, not even bothering to undress before sliding under the sheets and curling up into a ball. You see Warren leave the room, watch her feet move to the top of the stairs and then descend. Everything hurts, and you embrace the darkness that dreamless sleep brings you.

You awaken, it’s dark and you guess that it’s the middle of the night. 10k’s arm is over you, holding you into his chest, you can’t remember him coming in, so you must have been pretty out of it. You put your hand over his and trace the veins down and into his arm. Suddenly that familiar feeling stirs in the pit of your stomach. You throw his arm off of you and run to the bathroom, throwing yourself over the toilet just in time. 10k appears at the door, wiping sleep out of his eyes and regarding you with concern as you throw up over and over.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, coming to your side and kneeling, one arm going around your waist.

“I’m okay” you murmur, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “go back to sleep” His fingers trace up and down your spine in a subconscious attempt to comfort you. Out of the corner of your eye you see him shake his head.

“You’re not okay” he says, ducking to try and meet your eye. “Let me help you.” There’s urgency in his voice that your brain translates to you as panic, you also notice that his hands are shaking. You don’t blame him, being sick in the apocalypse was never a good sign. You’d probably be thinking the worst if you were in his position.

“10k I’m alright I promise.” You move away from the toilet, sitting down on the cold floor as you had earlier, but this time facing your boyfriend’s worried face and pale blue eyes. He doesn’t protest this time. He just waits, knowing that at some point you’re going to have to say something to him.

“Where would you take me on our first date?” you whisper, noticing for the millionth time how beautiful he is. He looks surprised at your swerve in conversation. But not as surprised as you are when he humours you.

“If the world wasn’t like this?” he asks, almost inaudibly. You nod, looking down into your lap where you’ve folded your hands. There’s a pause while he thinks and then he clears his throat, obviously already having a clear picture in his head.

“I’d take you to the fair” he says. “I’d win you half a dozen cuddly toys on those shooting games and hook the ducks, and I’d have to end up carrying them because there’s too many for your little arms. We’d go up on the Ferris wheel and I’d kiss you under the moon, and then we’d get candyfloss and hot chocolate and we’d sit by the shoreline and watch the stars twinkle and the sea reply to them.”

“It sounds beautiful” you manage, still not looking at him.

“It would be,” he replies. “But not as beautiful as you, you’d be dressed to the nines, and I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of you all night.”

You burst into tears, unable to hold it back anymore. The panic returns to 10k, he jumps towards you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey!” he mumbles. “Please tell me what’s wrong?.”

“Tommy.” You sob. You meet his eyes, and he looks like he’s about to cry too. He waits for you to speak, giving you a supportive smile.

“I’m pregnant”

His face drops, as does his hand, falling away from your body and to his side. His eyes travel down your body to your stomach, and then he exhales deeply.

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice deep and void of any clue to what he’s feeling. You’re scared that you were right, that he’s going to close himself off from you and become so distant that you won’t know him anymore. You point across to where the test is still sitting. He follows and gets to his feet, padding across to pick it up. He stares at that blue cross for what seems like an eternity.

“I can’t believe it” he says in a monotone. Your eyes drop back to your hands, waiting for him to snap, or worse, for him to leave. He does neither.

“I can’t believe it” he repeats. “I’m going to be a dad.” His tone picks up at the end, and it takes you a moment, but then it registers. He’s happy. You frown, looking up at him. He’s staring back, eyes wide. He drops the stick and slides to your side, his fingers find their way over your abdomen, touching where his baby is growing. His hand is still shaking, but now it’s from excitement.

“You’re.. You’re happy?” you ask, a little lost.

“Of course I’m happy” he breathes. “There’s a piece of both of us in there, and it’s going to bloom into the most beautiful little being.” He keeps talking, telling you about how the baby is going to have your looks and his charm and how he’s going to teach it to shoot zombies as soon as it can walk.

“I’m sorry” you mutter, shaking him off. You get to your feet and leave the room, running through the bedroom and down the stairs, ignoring him calling out your name. Once out of the back door you hurry down the path and out of the gate into the over grown park. Eventually your legs give out and you fall to the ground with a thud. Tears stream, mixing with the dirt on the ground. You push yourself over onto your back and lay there, staring at the moon.

You would have thought that him being so pleased with the situation would have made you feel safer and happier. But it doesn’t. You don’t feel anything. Everything is numb. None of this is right. You don’t feel the connection with the thing inside of you, even though he already does. He hasn’t made to follow you, probably deciding to give you some time to yourself, or maybe just still in shock, celebrating to himself.

That gives you time.

You pull your knife out of your waistband and hold it out in front of you, watching the moonlight gleam off of the blade as you turn it slightly. You sit up, and then pull yourself up onto your knees, your focus not shifting from the dagger. You’re calm as your other hand moves over your stomach and curls into a claw there.

“You’re not welcome here” you whisper. “You’re not what he thinks you are.”

With a moan, you push the knife into your abdomen, blood spilling through your fingers automatically. You pull the blade free and drop it to the ground, the clatter ringing through the air in slow motion. Your head spins, pain spreading through your entire body. With all of your strength, you pull yourself to your feet and make your way slowly back towards the house.

“10k!” you call, opening the gate and stumbling through, hands pushing at the wound, trying to keep the blood in. “Tommy its okay, I dealt with it!” You cough, agony shooting up your throat, blood stippling your lips. You can hear movement in the house, multiple members of the group stirring at the sound of your voice, half screaming.

When you’re almost at the door, Warren pushes it open, followed by Vasquez. They both stop short, Vasquez’s face filling with confusion and horror. He rushes forward as you fold into his arms, holding you upright, his hand over yours on the stab wound. Warrens face is cold and empty, within seconds she’s figured out what’s happened.

“Who did this to you?” Vasquez asks, pain washing across his face. You manage a smile and cough once more, before you speak.

“It’s okay” you say, “Everything’s okay now.” Warren shakes her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Who did this?” Vasquez repeats.

“She did.” Warren mutters.

Suddenly another face appears above you. 10k falls to his knees beside you, his eyes bigger than you could ever have imagined them getting. He puts his hand out as though he’s going to touch you, but it stays there in the air, as if he’s a tape that’s gotten stuck.

“What have you done?” It’s his voice, but you don’t see his mouth move, your vision is swirling too much.

“We need to get her inside” Say’s Vasquez.

“Get Doc”

“Tommy, It’s gone, everything is okay” you crack. 

“Oh god what’s happening”

“Addy, get DOC!”

“What have you done, oh god, y/n.” 10k whispers as everything disappears.


End file.
